


Playing with Fire

by Sylvia Knight (Gayle)



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: M/M, Zine: No Holds Barred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1994-05-01
Updated: 1994-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayle/pseuds/Sylvia%20Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old Wiseguy zinefic; proper headers coming shortly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in [No Holds Barred](http://fanlore.org/wiki/No_Holds_Barred) #5.

Vinnie let himself into the penthouse, his nerves still wired from his meeting with Sonny. Wandering into the bedroom, he slung himself onto the bed, not even bothering to shuck his jacket. He buried his face in the crook of an elbow, finding the scent of the leather obscurely comforting. Everything was fucked. Yet another week where he'd strung McPike along, telling him everything except that he was as close to Steelgrave as the OCB could ever want. Or had been. Looked like he managed to screw up his relationship with Sonny as well as the Bureau.

At least he had a meaty bone for Frank to worry over. The pressure was finally building up with Cecil Damonte. Sonny was going to have to move or move over for Patrice. Which meant Sonny would take on Damonte soon. Which meant Sonny wanted to feel secure about Vinnie guarding his back. Which he couldn't, not anymore. The meeting he'd just had with Steelgrave had been strained to the snapping point. The past couple of days they'd barely managed to keep their tempers in check—and only with each other. Sonny had said they both got mean when they were hungry, and starvation had already set it. Cannibalism was just around the corner.

Vinnie groaned, his brain besieged with images of mutual devouring, his hips grinding restlessly against the coverlet. Abruptly, he forced himself to stop, muttering a few choice profanities under his breath. Sitting up, he cast a resentful glance at the bedside table. The lube tube was there in the drawer, kept handy since the last time—the second time they'd made it, the first and last time they'd fucked. He gave a shaky sigh—the memory of that night still stunned and dazzled him. Taking Sonny inside him had been as traumatic as he feared, and more beautiful than he could have dreamed possible. The power, the beauty, of the passion had stripped away the lies to a deeper truth, even if it was only a truth of the flesh.

Before he slept with him, Vinnie would have said that Steelgrave was not someone who looked for deep emotional intimacy in sex. Sonny wanted to have a good time and forget about it. And he was happy to pay for what he wanted, with money or whatever was the going rate in favors at the office. Yet Steelgrave craved affection as much as anyone Vinnie had ever known. Maybe this had seemed an ideal situation to Sonny, once he added a new gender to his preferences—great sex with a man, without a lot of emotional entanglements. Except that when fantasy and reality and hadn't meshed, and Sonny found himself caught in Vinnie's wretched tangle of physical and emotional pain, he'd been as tender and caring as anyone Vince could imagine.

Of course, Sonny had fucked his brains out the next morning—a whirlwind tour of Steelgrave expertise that made certain they had the pleasure versus pain balance calibrated right. No pain, and pleasure way off the scale. Vinnie remembered lying on his belly in bed as Sonny got dressed, savoring the afterglow, the warm lassitude that suffused his entire body, the very specific, very hot, throbbing in his ass. Sonny came over and sat beside him, stroking his back and buttocks, then bending down to kiss each cheek, the first tenderly, the second with a mock ferocious growl and bite. "Get that sweet ass of yours out of bed, Terranova," he ordered. Then, just before leaving, Sonny had leaned forward to murmur in his ear, "Next time is yours, Vince. Whatever you want, you got."

He'd savored a few delicious possibilities that morning. He'd contemplated a lot more that week, while he and waited and waited for Sonny to come on to him again. And then he figured out that was the problem. Sonny was waiting for him to take the initiative. Steelgrave had promised him their sexual relationship would be equal, and he was doing his damnedest to be true to his word. The invitation was plain, in the provocative body language, in the verbal innuendoes and come hither looks. Turned out Sonny was one hell of a flirt. But there had been no direct proposition, and no touches to trigger an easy acquiescence. Sonny had put him in control of what was going to happen between them.

With that knowledge came a weird paralysis of Vince's will. It might be a lousy rationalization, but he'd had the excuse, both times, that Sonny had started it—that there was no way to say no without wrecking the place he'd built for himself within Steelgrave's organization. Vinnie hadn't approached Sonny, he'd just let it happen—with diminishing degrees of reluctance, and ever-increasing degrees of desire. Only that excuse had been stripped away, and with it his last vestige of moral armor. Because he wasn't just letting it happen anymore. Even if he refused to reach out, Vinnie could not stop himself from beckoning, with his eyes, his body, his voice. Steelgrave wasn't the only one singing siren songs. Vinnie beckoned, and then he waited, praying for the waiting to be too much for Steelgrave, for Sonny to start talking, start fighting, start grabbing—whatever it took to get them back into bed together. It was an insidious form of entrapment, a twisted net set to ensnare both Sonny and himself.

The phone rang. Fuming inwardly, Vince picked it up and growled, "Yeah?"

"It's me," Sonny said tersely. "You mind if I come up?"

For a heartbeat, Vinnie couldn't answer, then he said, "No. Of course not, Sonny."

"Okay," Sonny answered with equal brevity, then hung up.

Vinnie put the phone down, and sat frowning at it for a second. A week ago Sonny would just have walked in, and Vinnie perversely missed that arrogant presumptuousness. Then he smiled. Looked like Steelgrave couldn't stay away after all. Vinnie went to the living room, and waited for Sonny to come to him.

Emerging from the elevator, Steelgrave entered the familiar apartment gingerly as a tomcat on unknown turf. Standing by the couch, Vinnie watched Sonny prowl, his taut body radiating sexual energy that filled every corner of the room. Vinnie's body throbbed in response, a rising pulse beat of victory.

"You want something, Sonny? A drink?" Casually, he moved to the bar.

The quick flash of Steelgrave's eyes told him he wanted a hell of a lot more; but what he said was. "Yeah, gimme a Hennessey's."

Vinnie poured a neat, twenty dollar splash of the luxury brandy, handed him the glass, then returned to the bar. He leaned back against it, his body in full view, but out of reach.

Steelgrave sat down with premeditated nonchalance and sipped at the drink, watching him over the rim. This time the look he gave Vince wasn't a flashing glance—Sonny's gaze slowly, deliberately, scanned him up and down. Vinnie was half hard already, and the dark eyes lingered on his crotch. Then Sonny raised them and gave Vince a sultry, quizzical, challenging lift of his eyebrows. But the light in his eyes wasn't flirtatious, the hard glint set it on the razor edge of anger.

"You ain't having any?" Sonny asked, then tilted the drink at him with a sarcastic smirk.

"Maybe," Vinnie answered. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe not."

After what had happened between them, Vinnie knew Steelgrave couldn't read his current reluctance as anything but distrust and cowardice. And it didn't say much for his masculinity either. Vinnie the Hood would go for it all, or have the guts to say he couldn't handle it and take the consequences. Vinnie the Cop would do it for the job and take the consequences, or quit and take them. Looked like only Vinnie Terranova was hypocrite enough to be playing these cock teasing games. This wasn't who he was. And it sure as hell wasn't who he wanted to be.

But he stayed in place, exchanging glances of hunger and smoldering antagonism, until Sonny looked away and started talking about other things. The excuse for the visit was slim, some news about his nephew, Lorenzo, and when his ship was arriving. He was wondering what hotel to send the guy to. With a flash of desperation, of sanity, Vince thought that If he wanted out of this, all he had to do was offer to put the nephew up here. That'd rule out any bedroom escapades with Uncle Sonny. Better still, he should just tell Steelgrave he'd move out, let Lorenzo have his digs.

Maybe it wasn't such a transparent excuse of Sonny's. Maybe he was waiting to see just what Vince would or wouldn't offer. Of course he was. And Vinnie said nothing, because he knew he'd stopped looking for a way out. Abruptly, he walked to the window, staring out at the sunset. It was spectacular. The afternoon rain had cleared the air, but left masses of storm clouds. Arching above them, the vault of the sky gleamed a mythic bronze. The descending sun burned low on the skyline, a molten mass of scarlet that turned the turbulent clouds into a chaos of smoke and flame.

He heard Sonny rise up and approach, and Vinnie could sense exactly how close he was standing behind him. Close enough to make contact, if he wanted to. _Just touch me_ , he willed. One touch is all it would take now. He had to force his ragged breathing to slow. Low to the horizon, a sword stroke of light slashed the roiling clouds, loosing a swath of white gold incandescence that pierced the windows of the office buildings, turning the city into a holocaust. Sonny stepped closer, and Vinnie could feel the air around them crackling, as if the heat of their desire was about to explode. When it did, the conflagration would consume them and everything around them.

Behind him, Sonny said, "Looks like the whole world's going down in flames."

Not trusting himself to turn around, Vinnie said, "I'd rather burn than be frozen out. Wouldn't you, Sonny?" 

He heard the seductiveness and hated himself. Maybe Sonny was starting to hate him too, because his voice cut with scorn when he said, "And here I was—thinking that you'd opt for ice."

It was a goad, a sharp lash to make him whirl and seize Sonny. He felt the impulse shudder through him. Curling his hands into fists, Vinnie stood where he was. But he whispered, "Not me. I'll take fire anytime." 

Frozen and burning, he waited for the touch of one of those small, deft hands on his shoulder. Instead, Steelgrave said, "You could've fooled me," then turned and walked away.

Anger flared in Vinnie, that he couldn't break Sonny's resolve, followed by cold, queasy shame that he wanted to do it to ease his own muddled conscience. What a joke. Right now, the only thing upright about him was his cock. Knowing what he wanted was safely out of reach, he turned around. Steelgrave was already at the door, standing with his fists clenched too, Vinnie saw. Sonny was fighting to hold himself back, his features as tight as his body. "Night, Vinnie," was all he said, but he stood there for a moment, watching Vinnie watching him. A swift cascade of emotions flowed over Sonny's face: Desire . . . anger . . . confusion . . . defiance . . . defeat. And finally, hurt, a look of open vulnerability and wounded betrayal.

Something snapped inside Vince. With a silent curse, he plunged across the space between them, seeing desire flash in Sonny's eyes again as he ran toward him. Sonny flung himself to meet him, so that suddenly they were together. With the impact of their bodies, it seemed the room burst into flame, fire beating the air all around them like a thunder of wings. _All Heaven's angels burning in Hell,_ Vinnie thought. And there was only one way to quench this blaze. Sonny was clutching him, voice a hungry whisper, "Finally . . . finally." Pulling Sonny close, Vinnie kissed him fiercely, ravenously, devouring his mouth whole with lips and tongue and teeth. Sonny pulled his head back, and Vinnie saw he'd bitten him so hard Sonny's lip was bleeding. But Steelgrave didn't care about that, he only wanted breath to speak.

"What you want? What you want?" Sonny's words were rapid and slurred with excitement. He pressed himself closer still, his body vibrating with tension. "Come on, take it. Take it!"

Now that he had Sonny in his arms, Vinnie couldn't bear to lose the contact. And Sonny obviously had no intention of releasing him. There were some crazed moments, buttons scattering and cloth tearing as they ripped jackets and shirts off themselves and each other. Grabbing frenzied kisses and bites between rendings, they pressed the naked flesh they uncovered against each other, craving the searing touch of skin against skin.

Sonny began licking his neck, biting his ear, all the while delivering a relentless barrage of sexual inquisition. "You want to fuck me again? You want to ram it inside me, Vinnie? That what you want? Tell me. Tell me. You want to jerk off on me, shoot your jism on my face? You want me to suck your cock?" Vinnie groaned, holding him tighter, the onslaught of erotic images overwhelming him with lust. Sonny's hands flew to the waist of his jeans, fingers tugging at the snap. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to suck you off. You want to come in my mouth. Say it. Say it. Say it!" Sonny snarled in a fury of desire.

"Yes," was all Vinnie managed, because he wanted all of it. 

Sonny was already sliding to his knees, unzipping Vinnie's fly, yanking down jeans and briefs, letting him kick them away with his shoes and socks until he was stripped naked. Looking down at Sonny, fragments of ugly memories flashed across Vinnie's vision, the desperate inmates he'd seen offering this in turn for protection. But then they vanished, and there was only Sonny's face before him. The dark eyes burned up at him, alive with desire. He'd never seen anyone less submissive. Sonny extended his hand, the inquisitive fingers slowly caressing Vinnie's swollen cock. He watched them stroking up and down, moaning as he felt himself throb and stretch under their seductive ministrations.

"Mmmmm . . . look at that," Sonny purred, the husky roughness of his voice prickling all along Vinnie's skin. Sonny looked up at him, pursing his lips in a roguish kiss, "Ain't that pretty. Hot and hard and red as fire. Come on, Vinnie. Tell me where you want me to put it. Tell me where you want to come." 

Even as he reveled in the lascivious caress of Sonny's words, Vinnie did not want to talk, he wanted only the silent truth of touch. Reaching out, he stroked the other man's face, grazing his jaw, his parted lips, with trembling fingers. Sonny turned to his kiss his hand, licking his palm before taking Vinnie's thumb into his mouth. His tongue spun warm and wet around the curved contours, then seized on it with a tight suction before letting it slide slowly from his mouth, the mobile lips caressing the length of it. His hand still moist and tingling, Vinnie took hold of his cock and guided it to Sonny's mouth, rubbing the head against his lips, the drop of fluid leaving a glistening trail. Sonny's tongue tasted the salty brightness, then lapped at the head of Vinnie's cock, slowly, languorously, over and over. Vinnie pressed it against his mouth, wanting the wetness and heat to engulf him. Instead, Sonny moved further back. Holding Vinnie's gaze, his tongue tip probed the tender slit with salacious precision and then withdrew.

"Say it," Sonny commanded.

Dazed with lust, Vinnie gave a short, breathless laugh. For someone supposedly letting him run the show, Steelgrave was more imperious than ever. But he knew why Sonny demanded it, so he forced himself to say aloud what he wanted. "Take me in your mouth. Suck me. Suck me off, Sonny."

Vinnie gasped as the hot mouth took him, then groaned as Sonny cupped his balls with one hand, the root of his cock with the other, and began a vivid display of oral technique. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness. Vince would have sworn that Steelgrave had memorized every flashy trick every five hundred dollar call girl had ever used to please him, and was using them all now to drive Vinnie wild. It was too much—the wet, velvety tongue, the delicate edge of teeth, the clever lips working on him till Vinnie thought he would scream. Now it was easy to say the words, though his voice was hoarse with need. "Harder. Harder. As hard as you can."

"Like this?" Sonny asked, and then the rapacious mouth seized the whole length of Vinnie's cock, sucking him like sex was breath of life. Pleasure surged through him, the blazing force of it driving him to the edge. But when he was there, throbbing and ready to erupt semen white hot as lava, Sonny pulled away again.

"Don't tease," Vince grated out. Waiting was pure anguish.

Sonny shot him a glance of flame and fury. "Don't talk to me about teasing," he seethed.

"I don't want to talk at all." The fire was eating him alive.

"Then come on and shut me up good," he dared, his black eyes glittering.

Vinnie reached out for him, grasping his head. Steelgrave resisted, tugging back against the pressure. Vince tightened his hold, trying to force him closer, feeling the other man strain against his grip. " Sonny . . . ." he hissed.

For a second, the spark of violence flared between them, bright and livid. Every sinew drew taut with expectation. But the rage in Vinnie was desire, not anger. Sonny was angry enough for the both of them. Standing in the center of the inferno, Vinnie drew a slow, painful breath, then softened his grip on Sonny's head. Putting all his yearning into the caress, he ruffled the short-cropped hair, the texture bristling soft as a fur pelt beneath his fingers. For a long moment, Sonny held himself rigid against the gentleness. Then a shudder ran through him and he closed his eyes, leaning into Vinnie's touch. When Sonny opened his eyes again, the glow in their darkness was only the heat of passion. There was no resistance now, as Vinnie clasped Sonny's face with both hands, guiding him forward, offering his aching cock to the half-parted lips, feeling their breath and moisture like the most delicate and tantalizing caress, the unbearable, feather touch that pushed him to the brink. Anticipation consumed every atom of his body. His need was too powerful to contain.

"Sonny," he whispered again, warning, plea, and command in one word. Sonny opened his lips and took him in, deep into his throat. Orgasm seized Vince with a sudden, sweet, implacable fury. The fire within burned him to a hollow shell, and the fire without rushed in to fill it, channeling through his body, funneling in a white hot torrent through his cock into Sonny's mouth. Vinnie screamed, and screamed again, shocked at the ravaged sound of his own pleasure. He pressed Sonny closer and gave it all to him, the power, the fire, the feral glory rushing through him. And Sonny drank and drank and drank until he had drained him dry.

Barely conscious, Vinnie slumped to the floor. He was sated, but not satisfied, for now the flame had only passed from him to Sonny. Desire poured off the other man's body in shimmering heat waves. Dizzy with pleasure, Vinnie floated on those rhythmic waves. He felt his cock stir wistfully, too limp to respond with anything but a drowsy, luxurious, and totally vicarious arousal. He watched as Sonny rose to his feet, his hands stripping off the rest of his clothes and flinging them aside. Naked, Sonny stalked across the room to rifle the drawer for the lubricant and bring it back. Kneeling in front of Vinnie, he slathered it on his rampant cock, his hands shaking as he applied it. Vinnie wanted to do it for him, but by the time he commanded his own hand to move, Sonny had tossed the tube aside. He bent over Vinnie, gathering his legs and pressing them back, readying his cock at the entrance to Vinnie's body. Vinnie felt open and defenseless, and utterly beyond fear. He gave a small sound of surrender, urging Sonny to take what he wanted.

But Sonny paused, drawing back from the rim, even though Vinnie could feel the stress that quivered throughout his body. "Say it," Sonny demanded again, still caught in his own fevered need for confirmation.

"Fuck my ass, Sonny," Vinnie beckoned softly. "Come in my ass." For all the carnality of the words, what he felt was a sweetness as molten as the setting sun had been. He tilted his hips up, kissing the tiny mouth to the moist head of Sonny's cock, the soft touch wrenching a harsh gasp from his throat. Too roused for caution, Sonny entered him with a single driving thrust. A brief pain jabbed along Vinnie's nerves, but he didn't care, because Sonny was inside him at last.

"Oh God," Sonny cried out, arching against him. "Oh God." He closed his eyes, holding perfectly still to quell the urge to pour himself into Vinnie's flesh. Then Sonny opened his eyes, gazing down at him. Teeming in their depths Vince saw that every conflicted emotion had returned—the hunger, the hurt, the anger, all intensified by the searing power of desire. Only the confusion had transformed into resolution. Sonny began to pump into him, short hard strokes, chanting a savage litany of lust. "You love it, don't you, Vinnie. You want it in you. You have to have me in you."

They weren't questions, but they demanded answers. "Yes . . . ." Vince moaned.

"It's magic between us," Sonny whispered now, grasping him tighter, his voice filled with a wonder that bordered on pain. "Magic."

"Yes . . . . " Each thrust sent a new brightness through him, wildfire racing through his belly, his thighs, soaring up his spine. "Yes."

Then Sonny's hands tightened on his arms, iron fingers digging into his flesh. "Damn you," Sonny raged at him. "Why wait so long? Why fight it?"

"Because . . . ." But every truth was tainted with lies, every lie too close to the truth.

"Why?" Sonny's cock rammed into him, again, and again. But that was the torture of pleasure, not pain, relentless and inescapable pleasure that plumbed the depths of him. "Why be afraid of me?"

Sonny wanted an answer, and that meant Sonny would have an answer. Vinnie shook his head, he was too open, too vulnerable. He closed his eyes, but there was nowhere to hide. Nothing he could say. Chills, hot and cold, shivered through him. He shook his head, but he could not deny Sonny now. His eyes stung and he felt the hot, saltiness overflow, streaking his cheeks. Tears again . . . because the fire between them was so pure and the rest of it was so dirty, so ugly. Vinnie could not bear to look at the ugliness. And so he looked into the fire, so bright it burned clear to his soul, so bright it blinded him to everything but itself. Finally he found the answer, the answer that razed the deceit and guilt to ashes, the one truth that even his own lust had hidden. Overwhelmed, he gazed up at Sonny, not understanding, yet understanding too well the flaming incandescence within him.

"Because . . . ." he whispered.

"Why?" Sonny begged him. "Tell me why."

"Because I'm in love with you." It was too impossible, too horrifying, too sweet to endure.

Sonny gasped, and the savage thrusting stilled. "Vinnie . . . ." he murmured, his voice muted with tender amazement. He lifted a hand to caress Vince's cheek.

"In love with you," he repeated, shaking his head helplessly. But the hand captured his face, made him look in Sonny's searching eyes. "I'm in love with you."

"Oh Vinnie . . . ." Sonny said softly, and then with new urgency. "Vinnie , hold me. Hold me." He thrust wildly, lost in the sudden, desperate flight to completion, giving breathless cries of pleasure. Caught in the soaring fervor, Vinnie wrapped himself around Sonny, legs and arms embracing him. A pulse of pleasure swept through him with the pulse of Sonny's cock.

"I love you," he said again, and Sonny came with a long cry softer, wilder, than all the others. Vinnie felt the luminous energy flow over him, waves of sensation vibrant and fluid as music, a ravishing flood of joy. Trembling himself, he kept Sonny close in his arms as his shudders faded, his breathing slowed, then reluctantly let his lover draw back to look at him.

"Vincenzo . . . ." Sonny began, with that same tender caress of his cheek, radiance alight in the darkness of his eyes.

"Don't say anything," Vinnie pleaded fiercely. "Don't say anything at all."

Sonny drew breath to argue, then released it in a baffled sigh. Leaning forward, he placed the tenderest of kisses on Vinnie's lips, then separated their bodies and settled back against him, snuggling close. Gratefully, wordlessly, Vinnie enfolded Sonny in his arms. He held onto him, held onto the glowing warmth, savoring each second it lingered, knowing the cold emptiness that was waiting outside the blessed circle of this embrace.

∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴

But time wouldn't come to a standstill. Not even the refuge of sleep was possible. After a moment, Sonny stirred affectionately, restlessly, against him, then raised himself up on an elbow. He smiled down at Vince, shining with delight. "Let's get up. I want to take you out to dinner."

As if Sonny wasn't always the one who took them out. But the words _Let's celebrate_ were as clear as if they had been spoken. Rising, Sonny pulled him to his feet. Vince could feel all his conflicts swarming around, waiting to descend. But for the moment, his love, his tenderness, held them at bay. Overwhelmed with a terrible surge of protectiveness, he wrapped Sonny in his arms. He ached, knowing that of all the dangers that threatened Steelgrave, one of the worst embraced him and was embraced.

"It's okay, baby," Sonny whispered. "You know I care."

Not, _I'm in love with you too_ , but still reassurance given unasked, another piercing blade slipped into Vinnie's heart. Sonny kissed him, a slow kiss, sweet and teasing, his tongue tip darting along his lips then slipping inside his mouth. Caught in a delicate anguish of pain and pleasure, Vince hugged him tighter.

Sonny gave a little _oof_ and scolded, "You're gonna squeeze me to death."

Vince let him go. "I need a shower," he said abruptly, and vanished into the bath. But even the deluge of hot water proved no escape. His mind was seething with demons. He'd felt so fucking clever, working his fight scam on Steelgrave, spinning a net of lies to win his trust. Only the more he cared for Sonny, the more he'd hated the lies. Now, to entrap Sonny so totally with the truth was sickening. There was no way to share anything with Sonny that was untainted by deception. It had gotten to the point where Vince was betraying everything—Sonny, the OCB, himself.

But he couldn't hide in the shower. Steelgrave was waiting, wanting to take him out on the town. He toweled himself dry and slipped into a robe. Even knotted up with guilt, Vince felt a gnawing hunger just to be in Sonny's presence. The bedroom was empty when he emerged, but he could hear Sonny talking on the phone in the living room. Vinnie had to smile when he found him perched naked on top of the couch, his free hand sketching pictures in the air, "Yeah, right, zigzags," Sonny said. "The Missoni sweater you had in the window last week, cotton, mostly grey and blue. You still got it? Good. Send it up, and a couple of polos and turtles, whatever matches. You got my sizes on file." Hanging up, he displayed the shirt he'd worn with a flourish, stripped of buttons from when Vinnie tore it off him. "You trashed this," Sonny said, obviously pleased. "I'm gonna take a shower too. Just toss the new stuff on the bed when it arrives. Maybe I should keep some clothes here. Don't want to worry about having to walk out in tatters."

Sonny headed into the bathroom. Vinnie took a minute to gather their scattered clothes, tossing his in the laundry and Sonny's onto the bed. Inside the shower, Sonny was singing "Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire," accompanied with vigorous drumming on the tile. Grinning, Vince put on his black jeans and grabbed a fresh blue t-shirt. He figured that if Sonny were wearing a sweater, even one with a designer label, he could dress casual. The clothing shop buzzed with the stuff for Sonny. Vinnie signed for it and laid it out on the bed for him. The sweater was mostly blue and grey, like Sonny had described, about a dozen shades of each, from almost black to almost white, all intricately entwined. It should look great on Steelgrave. He glanced at the receipt and whistled. Eight hundred bucks seemed pricey for pile of knitting.

Sonny came out and started putting on his underwear. Vinnie watched him fit himself into his briefs, happy with the intimacy of watching Sonny dress, with the simple pleasure of being in the same room with him, sharing a smile and basking in the vital energy he exuded.

"Where you want to eat?" Sonny asked, sliding on his trousers. "How about the Ristorante Venezia? That's cozy."

"The food's great there," he agreed, pleased Sonny suggested a homey place.

Still bare chested, Sonny came over and put his arms around Vinnie's neck, leaning back to give him a sultry look. "I thought after dinner we'd come back here. You know, for a reprise? Only this time I come in your mouth, and you fuck my ass."

Vince smiled at him. Steelgrave was orchestrating everything as usual, but it made no difference to Vinnie's cock. It was charmed with the proposition. "You're gonna make me rush my dinner, Sonny."

"Anticipation whets the appetite," Sonny nuzzled his ear, bit the lobe, giving him a little shiver of pleasure. "I sucked you real good, didn't I?" Sonny purred happily. "Made you come really hard?"

"Like a goddamned volcano," Vinnie told him.

"Damn well better, after all the practicing I been doing."

Vinnie gasped. Sonny might as well have dumped ice water on him. Images splintered in his mind, Sonny sucking and being sucked by the cream of Atlantic City's male hustlers. His stricken gaze met Sonny's questioning one, then Steelgrave laughed.

"Oooo, you're jealous," Sonny teased, tousling his hair. The smug possessiveness made Vince want to punch him. He jerked away and Sonny raised his eyebrows at the glare Vince gave him. "Real jealous," Sonny amended, though a smile still quirked the corners of his lips.

"Fuck you," Vinnie said, anger barely easing the pain.

"Cool down, Terranova. A few bananas are nothing to get in an uproar about. I promise, not a one of them was as big as you."

Vinnie did a double take, his anger totally deflated. He could feel himself blushing even as he started to laugh. He sat on the bed, raking his hair with his hands. "You are fucking obscene."

"Oh yeah? My lascivious little breakfast sessions weren't anywhere near as obscene as what your imagination dreamed up. Nice Catholic boy like you, you should be ashamed," Sonny mocked. Vinnie gave him a disgusted look, but he couldn't help smiling his relief. Moving to stand beside him, Sonny stroked his cheek, his lips. "I know you really like getting sucked. So after I practically choked you the first time, I figured I better experiment a little before I tried the real thing.

Vince silently dammed Patrice's misleading photos. "I told you, Sonny, that other stuff was never important."

"Well, I had a lot of competition, so I wanted to do it good." 

From his voice, Vince knew he wanted more than that. And he could say, in absolute honesty, "You were the best, Sonny. That was the best head I've had from anyone ever."

"Yeah? Just naturally talented." Sonny looked pleased. He ruffled Vinnie's hair again, and his tone was quieter. "I'm not making any promises about women, Vinnie. But one of the reasons this all started was because I didn't want you fooling around in back alleys. I told you I wouldn't ask for anything I'm not willing to give. I won't fuck around with other guys. Not much of a promise, since I don't want no one but you."

 _So far_ , Vinnie thought. Those desires could emerge anytime with someone as curious, as promiscuous as Sonny. "Just tell me if that changes, Sonny. I don't want any surprises." Even as he spoke, Vinnie felt reality warping again. Here he was, trying to imagine a viable relationship with Steelgrave when the truth was he was going to destroy the man.

Sonny was looking at him with something between hurt and affront. "You still don't trust me? I know I'm a selfish sonofabitch, Vinnie, but the people I love, I love them all my life. What I feel for you now, it feels like it will last forever." Sonny's sweet drawl on the final syllables teased at Vinnie like a tongue—until he remembered Sonny handing him the gun, promising to trust him forever if he took out Hawthorne. Shivering, Vince thrust the thought from his mind. Hawthorne was still alive. And Vinnie was grateful, now, that the OCB would have no more than attempted murder on Steelgrave. Sonny went to his knees beside him, stroking Vinnie's thighs, spinning words around him. "Vinnie, right now I want to spend the rest of my life in bed with you, doing nothing but dreaming of new ways to put my cock inside you. But we both been around long enough to know the chances of this passion we got lasting. All the more reason to hold onto it now. I swear to you, we were friends before this started, we'll be friends after, if there has to be an after."

"Sonny, don't," Vince said, wrenched by pain. He tried to offer some fragment of the truth, however corrupt. "We both know that no one can promise that. We're walking through fire. It'll be a miracle if we both come out unscathed."

"I thought you told me you'd rather burn than be frozen out, Vinnie."

Meeting the challenging blaze in Sonny's eyes, Vince could only whisper, "Yes," and kiss him, filled with impossible longing. Sonny's mouth opened under his, drawing in his tongue and sucking with lazy fervor.

"Mmmmm, I like way you taste," Sonny said as he released him. Then he stood up, flashing Vinnie a wide-eyed look of comic magnitude. "We better go soon, kid, or we ain't **never** gonna make it to the restaurant."

Sorting through the pile of clothes on the bed, Sonny picked out a grey silk turtleneck and topped it with the sweater. "You like this?" he asked. "I almost bought it before, but I thought maybe it was too offbeat?"

"Nah, it's classy," Vinnie assured him, smoothing the sweater over his chest. "All these textures are nice to touch." Sonny moved to the mirror, combing his hair with his fingertips. Vince started hunting for his jacket. He must have left it in the living room.

"Vinnie?"

"Yeah?" When he looked back, Sonny was frowning at his image. He turned around, meeting Vinnie's eyes. 

"You think I should whack Patrice?"

As casually as that, another murder in the offing. Vinnie felt himself go cold. _Answer in character_ , he warned himself, _and try and stop him_. _Don't seem too reluctant._ "You want to do Pat the Cat, you better be fucking careful."

"He's got his claws into me—and once he sinks them in, he won't let go. I know him." Sonny gave a restless shrug, gearing up for a fight. "The Cat may have more fun if he can bat me around a little first, but I figure he plans to take me out."

In his mind, Vinnie saw Sonny slide his gun across the glass table, saw the cold calculation in Patrice's eyes as he picked it up and pointed it at him. If looks could kill, Sonny would have been dead and buried. _Kill the bastard before he kills you_ , his own voice said, and it was an shocked second before he realized he hadn't spoken aloud. Vince drew a sharp breath, and said, "Unless it's clear that it's you or him, the other families may take you out for doing it."

"Yeah, I know I have to be careful. Anyway, there's no rush. The Cat's got the scent of blood, but he still thinks it's just an extra mean mouse he's got between his paws. He'll want to play before he makes his move. I got time to set a trap of my own."

"I need a drink," Vinnie said. He walked into the living room and poured himself a brandy. Hennessey's Special Reserve, a small fortune per bottle. He remembered Sonny's extravagant sweater. He was suddenly, vividly aware of the surrounding luxury, all built on violence and death. He'd known Sonny was a killer from the first. This apartment, the car keys, had been handed over with a cheerfully lethal warning. Steelgrave had asked him to commit murder. How on God's earth could he be in love with this man?

He heard Sonny come up behind him, felt the strong arms wrap around his chest and Sonny snuggle against him with a murmur of contentment. "Maybe we should eat in after all, Vincenzo. Keep the bed handy," Sonny said. "I can't wait to put my cock into that beautiful mouth of yours. Watch you suck me. Can't wait to feel that big cock of yours explode inside of me."

With sensuous purpose, Sonny's hands slid down to his groin. The cold horror Vinnie had felt was bad enough, the hot desire that flooded him was terrifying. Worse than both was the rush of tenderness, the unbearable sweetness of Sonny's touch.

Before he knew what he'd done, he'd broken from Sonny's hold and turned on him. "I never wanted to feel this way about you!" Vinnie shouted at him, flinging the glass across the room. It shattered against the wall.

Sonny stared at him, stunned. "Vince, what the hell . . . ."

Vinnie fought for control. If he didn't get it, he'd say too much. Then he'd be a dead man. He felt utterly, rawly himself, but he had to play the part. Create some motivation that made sense. "I never thought I'd feel this way about a man," he managed.

"So fucking what?" Sonny snapped, the temper he'd controlled for a week final fraying. "Neither did I, and I'm not the one sneaking out for back alley blow jobs!"

"I told you, you made too much out of those fucking photographs! It was just cheap thrills."

"Yeah, right," Sonny sneered his disbelief. "You don't want it, why go looking for it?"

"Why? I wanted any of the call girls you bought more than those guys, but I don't like thinking it's the money instead of the sex that's getting them wet. When I'm horny I don't want to waste a goddamned hour in a bar with some woman who wants it as much as I do, but won't go for it unless I play phony courting games first. I could walk into a gay bar and know there'd be some guy who wanted nothing more than to suck my cock, and would be damned good at it. And I didn't have to want anything except to let him bring me off. It was hot, it was fast, and it meant nothing. Nothing!"

"And now that it means something you don't have the guts for it? Jesus, what a fucking hypocrite you are," Sonny snarled at him. "For someone who doesn't like phony courting games you sure as hell tried to make me jump through hoops. You think this has been easy for me? You think I didn't see my life different before you happened? When my brother died, I felt death breathing down my neck. I don't even have any sons to carry on my name. I starting thinking about asking Teresa Baglia to marry me. She's a smart, sexy woman, and It's the best move I can make politically. It shores up my power—maybe it even makes Pat the Cat loosen his claw hold. Next thing I know, I'm in your bed, and all that's shot to hell."

"So marry her!" Vinnie snarled back, torn with guilt and jealousy.

"Maybe I will, since it's the smart thing to do. There's just one small problem. I love her." Vinnie didn't think he'd say it unless it were true, but from the way Steelgrave's eyes glinted, Vince knew he meant it to hurt. It did. But then Sonny said, "I've known Teresa since she was a kid. Maybe It's no burning passion, but there was enough to make a bond, build a good marriage on. Only now it seems a little tacky to take her on a honeymoon when all I can think of is when I'm gonna get my cock inside of you again."

"How about never, since I never fucking invited you into my bed."

"That's right, Terranova. You never really wanted it. I suppose I forced you to rip the clothes off me today?"

"Damn you," he whispered. "Damn you."

I thought it was me you were afraid of, but it's yourself," Sonny said. "What the fuck's wrong with you? Don't you know most people would kill for what we got?"

Vinnie shuddered. "Yeah—they kill each other."

"That won't scare me off, Vinnie. I like living dangerously." Swiftly, Sonny moved in on him, his body rubbing against Vinnie's, his hand sliding down to his crotch.

"No!" Vince pushed him away, but Sonny was up against him instantly, his hand closing around Vince's cock. It jolted fiercely at his touch.

"This ain't no, Vinnie, this is a really big yes."

Trapped in a net of anger and desire, Vinnie slugged him. His fist caught Sonny on the jaw and knocked him onto the floor. "Is that enough of a **no** for you?"

For an instant Sonny lay where he fell, shaking his head to clear it. Then he was up on his feet, his fists raised, radiating fury.

Vinnie felt the savage fire twining with his own, his body surged with adrenaline, and his cock throbbed with wilder heat. Sex was driving the rage, and Vince saw with absolute clarity that unless they beat each other senseless, whoever won this fight was going fuck the other to claim the victory. He envisioned Sonny beneath him, battered and moaning with pain, moaning from the merciless pleasure of Vince's cock driving into his ass, begging him for more. For a second he wanted that total domination of Steelgrave more than anything.

"Yeah, come on, come on," Sonny hissed at him. "Try and take me."

 _Do it and he'll kill you after_ , he warned himself. But he wasn't sure. Maybe any sex, however brutal, would mean that Steelgrave had won. Vinnie's physical power had never frightened Sonny, it excited him. The image spun around, and he was pinned underneath Sonny. _I'll hate him_ , he thought, _and then I'll be free of him_. Except his cock throbbed with the same vicious anticipation at the thought of Sonny ramming into him.

"Come on. I'll take you down, you sonofabitch," Sonny said, feinting a punch.

Vince backed up, fists still raised. "I don't want to fight you, Sonny."

"You fucking coward, you can't run away from this."

Vinnie opened his hands, holding them in front of him, placating Steelgrave, and warding him off. Trying to back out was dangerous. If Sonny jumped him he'd have to fight. He couldn't give way now. If Sonny thought he wanted to be dominated, it would all turn impossibly ugly. Vince realized how careful they had both been, for all the manipulation, all the fierce passion, to hold this aggression in check.

"Please, Sonny. Let me say no," he pleaded. "Just once, let me say no."

Sonny's whole body tensed, and Vinnie was sure Steelgrave would attack, but then his hands came down. "You coward," he said again, and Vinnie knew it wasn't because he refused to fight.

Vince kept his own hands up, palms out, needing to keep the other man at bay. "We're already hurting each other, Sonny. I don't want you to hate me. I don't want to hate you."

"I know what you told me before, Vince, and it wasn't that you hate me."

 _If I'd known, I'd never have told you,_ he thought. Sonny figured Vinnie belonged to him now. Sonny would never let go of anything that belonged to him.

Vinnie shook his head. "I need to think. I have to think this out."

Sonny closed in again, stopping just in front of his raised hands. Eyes burning into his, Sonny said, "Think all you want, Vinnie . . . it ain't gonna change the way you feel." 

Slowly, Vince backed away from him. When Sonny didn't follow, he grabbed his jacket and fled the penthouse.


End file.
